Unbreakable
by blue-eyed-cow
Summary: Aidan, a veteran mechanic, is captured by the Black Wings one fateful night and tortured for information on the inconspicuous Resistance. But he is a mechanic, and he is unbreakable. One-Shot, Dark, NOT AN OC. He's the promo mechanic from the website...


**A/N: Ahh, sad stories! They make me, well, sad. But they're just so fun to write! I hope you like this one. It's about the Mechanic, Aidan (yes, that is his actual name. You know, the one with the white hair and red eyes?) I know he's not actually in the game, but I couldn't help but write about him! In case you were unaware, the Battle Mage, the one with the red hair, is named Luka, and will be mentioned a few times. Other characters include Belle, Checky, Claudine, and the Black Wings.**

** Enjoy!**

** Disclaimer: I do not own Maplestory.**

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><p><em>I am a Mechanic…<em>

_ …and I am unbreakable._

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><p>Aidan was never fond of patrol duty. To him, it always seemed like a useless job, an unimportant one that should be assigned to the newest members of the Resistance, not a veteran like he was. Belle never had to go on patrol because she was the leader of the Wild Hunters, and was "constantly busy" training her students… some excuse! And Luka, a fellow veteran Resistance member like Aidan was, was busy assisting Brighton with some new students. Aidan snorted in discontent. Why couldn't he be helping Checky tonight? Why'd he have to get stuck with the dumb job?<p>

Aidan pulled a lever on his mech suit and made the huge robot kick a rock out of the way in fury.

It was a silent night. There was no moon in the sky, making the whole scene play out in black and white. The only sound was a fairly loud one: the whirl of the mech suit stomping through a forest trail around the back of the city of Eldestein, making sure that no Black Wings were sneaking around. Lately the Black Wings had begun to grow suspicious of the Resistance's activity, so Claudine put multiple members on patrol duty each night to make sure there weren't any snoops around. Unfortunately for Aidan, Mechanics like him were usually picked for the job because they had heat-sensing radars on the mech suit that could alert them of anyone in the area.

Aidan continued to stomp through the trail atop the large robot. He yawned loudly. He wasn't tired, even though it was two in the morning; most Resistance members slept all day and were awake all night, in the underground base. That is, unless they had some important job to do during the day, like Belle did. Belle was always tired, worn out by her day job as a policewoman and her night job as leader of the Wild Hunters.

Aidan sometimes envied her.

Aidan had yawned because he was bored.

The mech suit radar hadn't reported of any Black Wings around. It remained silent. It detected nothing.

It was unaware that beneath the earth, a mere twenty feet in front of Aidan, there was a bomb. An undetectable, small, deadly bomb.

No one knew until it was too late.

The mech suit was left nothing but a pile of burnt metal.

They never found the body.

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><p>Aidan was in pain. Everywhere. He felt like he had been run over by a mining truck over and over again, set on fire, then thrown down a set of stairs for good measure. His head ached, his back ached, his stomach and his neck and his legs and his knees ached. Everything.<p>

After a few minutes, the young Mechanic tried to open his eyes. He panicked when he discovered his right one wouldn't open. He panicked even more when the left one did.

He was in some sort of cell. It was small, damp, and dark, and smelled of blood and burned flesh. Aidan wrinkled his nose in disgust.

He was in a Black Wing hideout.

He tried to sit up, but a sudden searing pain in his legs stopped him from doing so, and he fell back onto the hard ground. That wasn't good. Taking a deep breath, Aidan strained his neck and took a look at his legs with his good eye.

They were nothing but a bloody mess. Mangled, soaked in the crimson liquid, and twisted at unpleasant angles. Aidan had to look away, and swallow the bile that had risen up in his throat. He was never on his feet during combat anyways, because he was always riding the mech suit, but still…

The mech suit. The mech suit!

Feeling more panicked than ever, Aidan looked around for any traces of his beloved killing machine. There was nothing.

The explosion had destroyed it.

It had never been completely destroyed before. It had been broken multiple times, banged up and beat around, but Aidan, with the help of his other robots, could always fix it. But there would be no fixing it this time.

The Fiery Mechanic suddenly felt hot tears weld up in his open eye, but then he quickly wiped it away on his shoulder in fury. No. No, he wouldn't cry. He was Aidan. He was a Mechanic. Mechanics don't cry.

The young man laid there for a while, a million thoughts running though his head, each going a hundred miles an hour. He managed to drag himself over to the back wall and prop himself against that to get a better view of the place; there would be no escaping without further knowledge of where the hell he was. He was in one cell of many in a long hallway, the only source of light being one flickering bulb. The cell had nothing in it but its occupant, and there was no key ring of any sort out in the hallway. All the other cells were empty.

Next, Aidan took note of his own damage. Apart from his legs being completely totaled, he had a large gash on his forehead, his left eye was swollen shut, most of his skin was covered in soot, and he had many other gashes on his arms and torso. The worst was by far the legs, however, which Aidan assumed must have gotten caught in the flaming mech before his captors yanked him out of there. Most of the lower half of his body was burnt.

Then he took a look at his options. His headset was no longer working. He stupidly left his cell phone back at the base. And his bag, which had been attached to his belt…

…was gone.

Aidan swore under his breath. That had all means of escape within it; his gadgets, his communicator, his laser, his guns, his potions…

There was one more thing that they might not have taken. Aidan opened up his vest, which was torn and burnt in multiple places, and checked the inside pocket. He felt instant joy when he saw that the small radio he used to summon his other robots was still there. Not believing his luck, he took it out of his pocket, turned it on, and…

…nothing happened.

It was broken.

A wave of anger swept over the Mechanic, and he furiously chucked the device at the opposite wall. He sat there for a few more seconds, taking short, angry breaths. He was defenseless and powerless, and he had been stupid enough to fall into the Black Wings' trap. He should have been paying more attention…

He shook his head suddenly, (which resulted in the headache he had only growing worse). He was Aidan! He was a Mechanic! Mechanics don't lose to Black Wings! They didn't give up; they stayed strong until the end!

The white-haired boy sat up a little straighter, despite the screams of his back and torso. He wouldn't let them win. And even if they beat him, he wouldn't go down without a fight!

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><p>They tortured him. Oh, how they tortured him.<p>

The Black Wings wanted information. They vaguely knew about the Resistance, but had no idea who they were and what they were planning. They needed answers.

So when the tall, white-haired, wild-looking boy in the robot suit and walked right into their trap, they simply couldn't pass on the opportunity.

They beat him and burnt him and broke him. They questioned him, and yelled until their throats were as sore as his. But a funny thing was happening.

He wasn't saying a word.

The only time he spoke was to throw a witty insult at them, or give a defiant 'no' when being questioned, (even if the question wasn't not a yes or no question). The Black Wings were not happy. They used every tactic, every mean of torture that they possessed. They beat him until he coughed blood. Yet still he didn't talk.

He was a stubborn one, but he had to break eventually.

Right?

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><p>It had been a week. A week since Aidan had been run over by a mining truck over and over again, set on fire, then thrown down a set of stairs for good measure. Since then, the pain had gotten nothing but worse. His whole body was covered in bruises and gashes, and it even hurt to breath. He couldn't feel his legs anymore, which had somewhat come as a relief, as they accounted for a good amount of that pain. But his captors weren't done yet.<p>

And neither was he.

He hadn't squealed. Hadn't broken. He had stayed strong. He hadn't given them the satisfaction.

And it had been worth it.

It was the second day when Aidan had snagged the papers off the Black Wing Officer's desk. He was being dragged back to his cell when the guard escorting him stopped to tie his shoe. He knew his prisoner was in no condition to escape, so he had taken his eyes off of him for a mere second. That had been enough. They had been walking by a cluttered desk, and Aidan had grabbed as many papers as he could with one fist, stuffed them into his ragged vest, and then acted like nothing had ever happened. The guard never even noticed.

When Aidan had gotten back to his cell that day, he anxiously looked at the papers with the eye that was still functional. At first he panicked; it was all just useless information. Then, as he flipped through, his heart sped up. This was valuable information. Future plans. Bills on things they had purchased. Bad things. Blueprints. Notes to higher officers. It was all pure gold. Aidan didn't know how it would be useful, but he felt accomplished, and was more relaxed than ever that night.

Now, a week into his stay, his hard work would pay off. He was lying on the floor of his cell, shaking and hacking up blood. His barely functional mind knew his body wouldn't be able to take much more.

That's when he heard it: a faint and familiar beeping sound. He mustered up the energy to lift his head, and that's when he saw it; a sight that made his heart momentarily fill with joy and relief: one of his repair robots. It was a small, round, hovering robot with two blue, glowing eyes and an antenna atop his head. Aidan didn't have time to think about how it had gotten here or how it knew where his master was, because he had to act fast.

The robot, compacting itself sop it could fit between the bars of the cell, flew over to where Aidan was and landed next to him, his automated eyes looking concerned. Aidan tried to smile, but his face was so sore that he couldn't. He took a deep breath and tried his best to get his point across.

"L-listen… closely," he rasped to the robot, which, on command, began to record the message. "Belle, Luka, it's Aidan. D-don't come… looking. I'll be… dead in a f-few days, anyways. Just… take these papers… and… remember m-me. I didn't break for you g-guys…" Aidan couldn't talk any longer as he began to hack up blood again, and the robot stopped recording the message. Then, in a long and painful process, Aidan reached over to the corner of his dirty cell, where the guards wouldn't see, and picked up the stash of useful papers he had stolen. He handed it to the robot, who extended a tiny mechanical arm, took them, and then put them into a safe compartment on it's middle.

"N-now go back to the b-base… don't come… back," Aidan coughed again. The robot gave him one last look, Aidan doing the same to it, and then it hovered through the cell bars, down the hall, and out of sight.

He had done it.

He took one last ragged breath, exhaled, and then went still, never to breath again.

He had never broken. Not once. And he took pride in being the hero.

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><p>Even though they didn't have the body, the Resistance held a proper funeral for the top veteran Mechanic. It was a solemn day, with an overcastted sky and dropped spirits. Everyone in the Resistance attended. Luka and Belle spoke, as did Checky and Claudine. When everyone had finally cleared out of the spot, ready to further analyze the useful information they had just received, only one change in the scenery remained. There was a small stone on the grassy ground, which they had used as a grave or an alter; whatever you wish to call it. Flowers were lying at rest. On the stone was a small plaque. It read:<p>

_In loving memory of Aidan. His creations may have broken, but his spirit never did._

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><p><strong>AN: I hope you enjoyed it! You know, Maplestory fics like these never get many reviews, and that makes me sad, so if you liked it I urge you to leave a review! It only takes a few seconds, and it would be greatly appreciated!**

** Thanks for reading! My other Maplestory fics are about the Cygnus Knights, and Maha (the spirit of the Aran's pole arm). You know, if you're interested. ;)**

** ~blue-eyed-cow**


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